


The Dating Gnome

by Solemnly_Swear



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Comedy, Other, hortis bizbee, the dating gnome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solemnly_Swear/pseuds/Solemnly_Swear
Summary: No good ever comes from running into a crazy gnome...





	The Dating Gnome

**The Dating Gnome**  
From the pen of Hortis T. Bizbee

 

_Chapter First_

I was walking down the street along the canals, minding my own beeswax, when I heard an annoying voice which unmistakably belonged to a gnome. (Trust me, you really can’t mistake them.) “You, sir!” he called out and I could practically hear him flailing his arms in a display of idiocy as he attempted to catch someone’s attention. I paused in my steps and tilted my head in his direction, wondering if I was the ‘sir’ he was flagging down. “ _Yoooooohoooooo!_ ” he yodeled, waving at me with an impish grin, as if I hadn’t already planted my feet firmly on cobblestone to stare at him.

I shrugged and took a couple of steps toward him, tossing glances to my left and right to see if anyone else was present. “Me?” I asked, as if I wasn’t already certain the fellow was beckoning me.

“Who else do you see?” He rolled his eyes as he answered. I started to interrupt, but he kept talking. “You look like a man in desperate need and I’m here to solve all your problems. They call _me_ The Dating Gnome. Why? Because I can find anyone a perfect date! A match forged by the titans! A love blessed by the Light!”

I shook my head in disbelief as he prattled out his advertisement. “You must be mistaken. I’m not looking for a date.” In truth, I’d have loved a good date even if I wasn’t actively looking for one at that very moment. If he’d caught me in the bar just a few hours later I’d have been a man on a mission.

“Blasphemy! Just look at you. Shuffling your old boots along with your shoulders slumped and a bored expression plastered on your face. You’re a man with nothing to look forward to and no lass to greet you when you arrive home. By the looks of you…I’d say it’s been…oh…” the gnome paused to scratch his scruffy beard. “About three months since your pecker last romped in the sheets.”

I nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

“Am I wrong?”

I paused, narrowing my eyes at him. Was he wrong? Well…no. Actually, he more or less hit the nail on the head. But was I going to admit that? Nope! So I did what every prideful man does - I lied. “You’re talking nonsense. I enjoyed a ‘romp’, as you call it, just last night.” I stood up a little taller for good measure.

He shook his head. “Lie.”

“How would you know?”

“I told you already!” He pointed forcefully at his chest and raised his voice to a new caliber of obnoxious. “I’m _The Dating Gnome_. I’ve been blessed with a gift.”

“Oh, right…a dating gnome…” I rolled my eyes and shrugged. “So you just run around guessing how long it’s been since a man enjoyed pleasures with a woman?”

He shook his head. “Not _a_ dating gnome. _The_ Dating Gnome. Besides, it’s not just that! Like I said already, I can find anyone the perfect date. Even a lad as sorry as you. No offense, of course. I take all kinds and have a one-hundred-percent success rate, even with the difficult ones such as yourself.”

I ignored his rude comments about me. It’s not like I’d ever trust a gnome’s opinion of my charm or good looks anyway. “That’s pretty boastful, don’t you think? If you have never failed then I’m guessing your successes can be tallied with one mark.” I smirked, certain I’d caught him.

He shook his head again and waved his arms around in excitement. “No! I’ve helped 27 clients to date. You can be my lucky number 28!”

“Right. 28.” I made sure to sound bored even though my interest was piqued. I didn’t _believe_ him (who would?), but you have to admit it was an interesting conversation. I was almost surprised no one passing by was stopping to gawk at this point. I noticed him nodding (keeping his yapping mouth shut for once), so I continued. “Okay, let’s say I was interested in this matchmaking scheme of yours. What’s the price?”

“Well, like I said, you’re a… _difficult_ case.” He scratched his forehead and pursed his lips for a moment before brightening again. “But! Since you’re skeptical, I can make you a special offer. You’d only have to pay a small deposit and then you pay in full only when I’ve found your perfect date. If I don’t find anyone perfect for you, which I will, then you’d owe nothing over the original deposit.”

I nodded. There was nothing unreasonable in that logic, try as I might to find a sore spot. “That seems like a fair offer, but what’s the rate?” He’d talked up his abilities and discounts while avoiding naming an actual price. It was a surefire scam if I ever saw one. I was just waiting to be hit with an astronomical number.

“Let me see… I gotta calculate this really quick… Base fee is 1 gold. You’re three months desperate and I charge 5 silver per month, so that’s 15 silver. Plus 20 silver for being a tall folk - I don’t have as many connections. I add another half gold for difficult cases, so that brings it up to 1 gold and 85 silver.”

And there it was.  An astronomical number.  “Nearly _two gold_? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Bertimus doesn’t kid!”

“Oh, so that’s your _real_ name? Bertimus?” I snorted.

“Yes. Bertimus Snarefling, The Dating Gnome. At your service!” He (belatedly, in my opinion) stuck out his hand offering to shake mine. Without thinking, I reached down and gasped it with my own. He gave a quick nod and beamed up at me. “It’ll be a pleasure doing business with you! Just need to go over a few more detail-”

“ _Hang on a minute!_ I didn’t agree to do any business with you yet.”

“Sure you did. We shook on it and everything!”

I started to object and then realized… Much to my own misfortune, he was right. I stood there with my mouth gaping open trying to think of a witty retort, but I drew a blank. I’d been suckered in by this short fellow’s scheme and, as a man of good repute and honor, I couldn’t back out of a deal I’d shook on. Even if I hadn’t been thinking clearly when I shook on it. Finally, I closed my mouth and sighed. “Fine. So how does this damned thing work?”

He grinned. I mean ear-to-ear, could-not-be-happier-if-you’d-handed-him-a-shiny-new-gadget grinned. “I knew you’d come around! It’s quite easy, honestly. All I have to know is your name, age, profession, and a few other little things about you. Then I do all the hard work for you. I’m sort of like a mercenary or investigator or…something. You just sit back and relax while I do the dirty work! Anyway, I’ll find you five dates to choose fro-”

“Five? Why five?” I interrupted. “I thought you’d find me _one_ perfect date?”

Bertimus nodded. “I will. One _perfect_ date. But I bring you five - I like the number five - possible candidates and then we’ll play a little game and you’ll choose between them.” He snapped his fingers. “Like I said - simple!”

So I’d get to choose from five because some loony gnome likes the number five? This was getting crazier by the minute! I realized he stopped talking and was looking up at me expectantly. He must have suspected I had on my ‘question face’ and he was right (again). I was preparing to ask another question. I thought for a moment and decided to ask the most important, since at this point little else mattered. “What’s the game?”

He smirked at me in that knowing way of his, which I was sick of already. “I was waiting for you to ask! It’s a great game! You’ll get to spend time doing things with each of your possible dates over the course of four days. It’s simple. Oh - and I can’t forget the rules. The rules are _there are no rules_. Except I eliminate one candidate each day.”

I frowned. “So let me make sure I have this right. For not quite two gold you’ll find me a perfect date. But you’ll actually find me _five_ dates, let me spend time with them, and then you will eliminate one each day until, presumably, there is only one left?” I scratched my head and frowned again. “Doesn’t that sound…backward to you? Maybe _I_ should be the one choosing my own winner?”

Bertimus grinned again and shook his head. “Nope. A desperate man like yourself thinks with only one thing - a thing better left in your pants. It’s absolutely the _worst_ thing to think with if you actually want to find a perfect date. This isn’t a one night stand, lad. You need an outside expert’s - that’s me - opinion. I mean, look at you! You’re pathetic and hopeless. Your love life is obviously in shambles. You _need_ my help. You just have to have a little faith! I’m The Dating Gnome, and I never fail!”

This was perhaps the most outlandish (and insulting) thing I’d ever heard, yet here I was already all wrapped up in it. My hands were figuratively tied. What could I do at this point? I shrugged. “Alright, fair enough…” I said in a flat tone. (Now, readers, if you ever find yourselves saying those words to a gnome, rest assured that it is _not_ , in fact, fair.)

Before I knew what was happening, Bertimus had withdrawn a small ivory card from his pocket and thrust it into my fingers. “This has all the information you need. Meet me there at 6 bells on this day next week. Don’t be late. I charge extra for tardiness.”

“Wait - meet you where?”

The gnome sighed. “ _Read the card_. It’s all on the card.”

I stared dumbly at the card, not actually reading it, before looking back down to him. “Didn’t you say you needed my information? And a deposit or something?”

He gave me a dismissive wave. “Already got everything. You’re Aleksander Routhe. 31. Human. Saddler. Lonely. Practically a virgin. Favorite color red. Sucker for a good cinnamon bun. Soft spot for puppies. Oh, and I forgot to mention one thing. You’re sponsored.” He chuckled. To my ears it sounded maniacal, but at that point anything would have. I thought I was either in the middle of a nightmare or losing my mind. Before I could even formulate a coherent response, he was gone. _Gone_ as in vanished. I should have been surprised, but at that point very little about The Dating Gnome could surprise me. He was unusual in every way - what was one more oddity to add to the list? I was left repeating his last few words in my head while turning the card around in my hand.

None of this made sense. Sponsored? What did he mean when he said I was sponsored? And how did he know all of that information about me? I glanced around, feeling suddenly vulnerable, as if someone were watching my every move. Sure, a lot of that stuff could be assumed. What man doesn’t like a lady in red or a warm cinnamon bun? My name and profession he could figure out just by wandering past my shop. But…it was all too eerie to be coincidental. Yet there stood, unable to do anything but show up in a week to the strange address listed on the card.

“Shite,” I muttered as I attempted to pull myself together and remember what I’d been doing before this peculiar encounter. As I resumed walking down the street, the only thing I could wonder was how I’d survive a week of suspense.


End file.
